


hope is a knife that never misses

by harlock



Series: hell isn't where we're going, it's where we've been [1]
Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Rewrite, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Love/Hate, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlock/pseuds/harlock
Summary: The day Yama boards theArcadia, he takes fate into his own hands.





	hope is a knife that never misses

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny bit of editing has been done.

Dirt and gristle dug into the scrapes on his hands and tiny cuts bled sluggishly as he hauled himself atop the plateau.

He didn't let himself breathe properly until he reached the flat of it behind the others, and he didn't let himself think until he was hauled onto the old battleship's loading bay and cornered on a mechanical plank. In contrast to the other fools standing down the line, Yama tried to keep steady, to breathe easy and force himself to think only of _here_ and _now_.

He'd made it this far without much to go on except scarce intel and bare-bones guesses as to where this beast of a ship would appear next. This was a wild guess on his part, his easy smiles and approachable demeanor making it easy for Yama to get information from the locals of every colony he'd visited. He wore his mask well until it no longer served him and he moved on.

Now, as he stood there under scrutiny of faceless crew in bronze armor and glowinggreen opticals, his desperation found root in his anxieties. He couldn't make a mistake. Not here, not when he was so _close_.

_"Honor!"_

_"For the money?!"_

The third man gives panicked scream as he teeters, stumbles, and falls to the impossible heights below.

On the deck above, the shadows shifted in the dim blue-green lights above and the flutter of a cape caught his attention as the winds blew up into the bay. He couldn't quite tear his gaze from the man who lingered there, a tall, lean figure clad in black leather and bronze chest plate, his infamous gravity saber on one hip and his Dragoon on the other. The odd, decrepit creature on his should gave a low, eerier caw that grated on Yama's frayed nerves, but he still couldn't tear his gaze away from the phantom above until their judge stepped in front of him.

The armored man who condemned the other failed candidates wasn't willing to wait for his answer, and still he yelled it even as the plank folded beneath his feet.

_"Freedom!"_

His arm jerked in his socket and his wrist screamed in pain when a clawed hand caught him. He looked up when a distorted voice asked his name, _"Yama—"_ before yanking him back onto the deck.

"Don't ever forget what you just said." The crewman continued, before the helmet retracted and a blonde woman with startling green eyes stood over him, "Freedom is our flag."

Yama dragged air back into his lungs, trying to calm his unsteady heart, erratic and seizing in his chest; his eyes trailed up to see the phantom watching him with a distant expression. Something in that gaze seemed briefly curious before the man turned on his heel and disappeared back into the shadows of the hold.

 _Harlock_.

"Get up, come on."

Dragged to his feet and shoved forward, Yama stumbled as the woman named Kei herded him after the crew in order to show him around.

In short time it took her to outfit him with fresh clothes and a better uniform, to assign him a cabin and give him a basic rundown of the ship's layout, they'd breached the atmosphere. Kei had left him to his own devices by then, and it wasn't until the klaxons sounded a red alert did he emerge to find the corridors a flurry of activity.

Kei appeared, heading towards the bridge like a madwoman, and Yama stumbled a bit as he was shoved out of the way.

"I—what can I do?"

Kei eyed him as she walked backwards, "What _do_ you know how to do?"

Swallowing, Yama gestured vaguely, "I was in the artillery in the army."

Kei pointed down the other direction, "Then find an empty turret and start shooting."

And so he did.

 

Yama let himself get lost in the firefight.

It had taken him a minute to familiarize himself with the century-old design of the controls and recalibrate the sights and sensors to his liking, and within seconds he was picking off fighters one by one. Each Legion fighter was annihilated with a press of his thumb on the trigger, the barrage of every turret under his control taking out the small waves of fighters in bright orange blasts; he knew the way Gaian fighters worked, knew their patterns and strategies, had possibly trained in these same modules as the men and women he was destroying in deep space.

Somehow, it didn't pull as wretchedly at his heartstrings as he thought it would.

In the background, he could hear orders being called throughout the ship, passed down from the Captain himself to the first mate and helmsman; as the last fighter was exploded away, Yama felt the _Arcadia_ lurch and then the great rumbling crash as the battleship rammed into the Legion ship.

Kei called him from the turret hole and ordered him to suit up— they were boarding the enemy vessel.

 

Yama was careful about splitting off from the main group. He'd sent confirmation of his presence on the _Arcadia_ just as he'd begun picking off fighters and now, as he crept along the hallways leading towards a cargo hold, he was meant to meet with a contact before the _Arcadia_ could cast off again.

An officer came at him from around a stack of crates and slammed him into them, pinning him there despite his weak attempts at struggling free.

"Can't believe you made it," The soldier muttered, lifting a device with a vicious-looking needle in one hand, "Don't move."

Yama gritted his teeth against a pained gasp and felt his eye water as it was pried open and the lasers scanned and imprinted on his retina. The blinding red flash almost made him yelp and his whole socket ached and stung when it was done.

The other stepped away, explaining as Yama tried to block more light from burning his eye, "It's a nano machine for retinal detection, embedded into your eye."

He blinked a couple times, trying to ease away the strange pain, "It stings..."

"Give it five minutes."

Yama was hauled to his feet by the other soldier, only for them both to whip around when an armored crewman of the _Arcadia_ came upon them and killed the Gaian.

"Take better care of yourself, rookie!" Yattaran's distorted voice yelled before he took off again.

He followed after, and after meeting up with the remainder of the party to raid another cargo hold for supplies, he breathed in relief when orders trickled in from the ship to return home. With a share tucked under his arm, Yama followed the rest, too lost in his thoughts to really care as Kei scolded him about his lack of proper armor.

Yama unclasped and disengaged his helmet after retreating to a corner of the hangar deck, attention immediately drawn to the Captain when he appeared above them. Yattaran's enthusiastic report of a safe return was met with an almost imperceptible nod and Yama swallowed as he listened to that deep, rasping voice give their next orders.

"Time to throw the military off our trail." Harlock announced, his single eye making a slow sweep across his crew and Yama didn't dare look away as Harlock's gaze lingered on him, "Activate the Dark matter engine, and prepare to engage IN-skip."

The bone-deep rumble and high-pitched whine of the engines as the _Arcadia_ came to life distracted Yama enough to tear his gaze away from the Captain, his eyes darting around as some of the crew scrambled to their posts and others moved to secure the loot. 

Beneath his feet, the ship felt alive, the groans of it too real to be anything but _human_ -like, and not for the first time did he get the feeling there was more to the _Arcadia_ than he was told in his briefings. 

 

Yattaran gave him a full tour when things had quieted for a few hours.

Yama learned of the _Arcadia_ 's Dark Matter engine, a perpetual energy machine that powered the ship's self-repairing system and enabled it to go without refueling or stopping. Though it was a relic of the Come Home War,the Death Shadow class battleship was near-invincible in a fight, an unstoppable force wreaking havoc on the universe whenever engaged.Try as he might, Yama couldn't help but be fascinated by the ship as a whole, the genius behind its mechanics and the beauty of its engineering.

Briefly, he wondered what it must have been like a century ago in all its glory, a triumph of human and Nibelung ingenuity, _before_ —

"Oi, keep up, rookie."

Yama shook himself from his thoughts and hurried after the other man, tuning back into his rambling explanations with a bit more attention.

When the first mate inquired about his marksmanship, he kept his answers vague and noncommittal. No one needed to know that all his training had been geared towards killing a supposed immortal, that he'd been trained as a sniper, a perfect little spy with perfect aim to kill the Gaia Sanction's most hated criminal. Yama shrugged off the compliments on his skills, because he'd purposely shown a mere fraction of them.

( _Play it safe, carefully earn your place, but don't overdo it._ )

He wasn't meant to standout among the crew just yet, since he didn't think he'd capture the Captain's attention so soon. Time is what he had, despite the urgency in which his brother wanted this mission completed.

"Yattaran... Can I ask you a question?" He knew he'd have to broach the subject carefully, but there was no point in dancing around it, "Is it true that Captain Harlock is over a hundred years old?"

Yattarran waved at him flippantly, "Heroes are always surrounded by legends," He answered, though he eyed Yama over his shoulder with a warning, "But don't be too curious about it."

He gestured around them, "Everyone here has criminal records, more than just a skeleton or two in the closet." He knocked a light fist against Yama's chest when the younger stepped up beside him, "Must be the same for you, I bet."

"I—" Yama trailed off, not really sure how to answer that as they left the bridge.

"We're angered by it." Yattaran continued on as if he never spoke, "Frustrated by those who grovel to the Gaia Sanction and only wanna go back to Earth."

He stopped at the bottom, arms swinging loosely at his sides before he turned enough to look up at Yama, "Life in this era is bleak. We have the right to choose how we want to live. Isn't that right?"

Yama froze in place as Yattaran walked away, brows furrowing as those words raced through his mind. It was his first peek into how much faith the crew seemed to have in Harlock and his ambitious goal.

 

In the days after, Yama couldn't sleep.

He'd catch a few short hours in between his assigned shifts and tasks from Kei, but most of the time, in those first couple of weeks aboard, he couldn't get a full night's rest. Yama found himself wandering the corridors at night, putting the reticle scanner to use and mapping out as much of the ship as he could in between the odd nap or two.

Sometimes he found himself on the command deck, allowing the shimmering darkness of space to envelope him even with the glass separating him from oblivion. Often, his thoughts swam or tangled when he was alone here, wondering about the man behind the wanted posters, thinking of his brother and his condemnation, of Nami and her gentle smiles.

Alone in this space, dwarfed by the vastness of the galaxies beyond the bay of windows, Yama felt every inch of his own mortality. Time seemed warped aboard the _Arcadia_ , twisted by his perceptions— now turned on their head at seeing just how _different_ things were on this ship— and unexpectedly he felt he'd lost so much time simply learning to blend in amongst the crew.

He was starting to feel _safe_ in their numbers and he knew that was a dangerous feeling indeed.

It takes him a while to realize he's not alone on the bridge when he returns again. That another presence had seamlessly woven itself into the shadows of the wide room, and it stuns him into silence when he realizes that Harlock was lounging in one of the darkened alcoves, one leg folded casually over the other and his scarred cheek propped on a closed fist.

Above all, it's the half-lidded, amber eye watching him with something _indecipherable_ that unnerves him the most. Under that gaze, Yama feels like a rabbit caught in a snare. And like a rabbit, he tore himself free and nearly ran from the bridge.

It happens several more times and all across the ship, until Yama stops trying to puzzle it out and just accepts that the Captain really is some kind of phantom. On the nights that sleep eludes him entirely, Yama finds himself drawn to the bridge, and it's not until he's halfway to the helm that he realizes the only other occupant is lounging on his throne, that lone eye trailing from the star-filled skies outside to the young man potentially intruding on his solitude. Neither say a word either way, and Yama has learned to feign indifference as if Harlock's looming presence didn't affect him on those sleep-deprived nights.

It still puts him on edge to be the focus of that single gaze, but after several nights of this odd mutual silence, a tipping point came when Yama entered the deck to find Harlock with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

The Captain held one glass in hand, while the other was placed on the armrest of his throne, only half-filled with a deep, burgundy liquid. Yama frowned at it in confusion, before the Captain lifted his own glass in something of a toast to the younger man, and took a long sip.

Taking that as permission, Yama wandered over, picked up the glass, and took a respectful step back to prop himself against a nearby railing. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, and yet, it felt like there was a canyon between them.

Yama sipped the offered wine thoughtfully, finding it to be a bold, yet sweet flavor. He hadn't been much of an alcohol drinker back on Mars, so this was almost too strong for him. He didn't want to break the silence, didn't want to shatter it with unnecessary words; even as the alcohol warmed his insides and tinged his pale cheeks with a bit of color, Yama couldn't bring himself to think of his mission, of the promise he was betraying just by sitting next to the criminal.

A small, rebellious part of him made whispers of keeping this careful balance, of forsaking his mission and breaking his _promise_ —

But Yama dismissed it as nothing more than drunken fancy and finished the last of the wine in one gulp. When he flicked a glance at Harlock, he thought he saw the barest hint of a smirk from the elder before he set the glass down, gave a short nod of thanks, and determinedly _walked_ from the deck.

Truthfully, his heart was racing in his chest, and his throat burned from trying not to panic, and once he reached his cabin, he was quick to dunk his head under freezing water just to shock himself back to reality.

 

Three nights later, Yama almost considered it a happy accident when Harlock's bird nearly took his head off with a screech as he rounded a corner. Yama ducked with a yelp as feathersflew everywhere and he watched as it flew haphazardly into a pipe, then dropped in a gangly mess to the floor. Frowning as he cautiously approached it, he watched as it perked up and shook its wings out, finding its balance again and giving him a strange look.

Yama glanced around, and watched as the bird took a few experimental flaps and launched itself off the ground and into the air again. He didn't question it when his instincts told him to follow, eyes both on the halls and on the bird as it weaved with much more grace through the pipes and beams overhead before it suddenly angled downwards and veered into an open doorway.

He stopped, feeling even more cautious than usual as he peeked inside. He wasn't sure where he was, because he'd never wandered too deeply from the areas he'd grown familiar with. Casting one last glance both ways, he slipped inside.

It didn't take him long to realize where he was and the significance of this room.

 _"The central computer room."_ He whispered to himself, awe lacing his tone, _"The holy chapel."_

The behemoth machine and it's heavy, rhythmic beat nearly took his breath away, the air here felt electric with the circuitry running every which way throughout the high-ceilinged room, and though it was purposely chilled by the ventilation system, he felt himself break out in a sweat when it dawned on him that he wasn't alone here.

Yama lightened his steps as he moved further in and tucked himself against a wall of servers when he heard a low murmur within. Peeking around the edge, Yama caught sight of Harlock himself, his quiet, deep voice speaking softly to the central computer; the words nearly lost on the younger man as he realized what this meant.

 _"My old friend."_ Harlock was saying, _"Our long journey… will soon come to an end."_

It was the moment he'd been waiting for. Captain Harlock, alone and unguarded, sequestered away from the company of his crewman and completely unaware of Yama's presence.

Yama lifted his hand to the gun at his hip, fingers hovering over it as he tried to steel his nerves. His blood pounded in his ears as his heart rate sped up and thundered in his chest, jaw locking shut as he swallowed back the bile in the back of his throat; too many thoughts and feelings swirled and screaming in his head, and just when he's about to throw himself forward with his fractured resolve—

Something small and bright catches his eye as it floats in his peripheral vision. His eyes are drawn to it, confused by the little green wisp as it fades out like a firefly.

"It's not over there."

Yama startled at the ethereal voice, the otherworldliness of it yanking his attention up to the alien woman lounging upon a large pipeline; Harlock's bird glided overhead as Miimei rested her head on her folded hands.

"The time is almost here," She continued, thin lips pulling into something like a smile, "to make your decision. It's yours and yours alone."

Yama says nothing, merely staring at her until his indecision gets the better of him and he leaves, with his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he hurries down the corridor. Thwarted as he feels, that insistent, rebellious little whisper seems to laugh in the back of his mind, _"not yet, not yet, not yet."_

 

Harlock stood from his usual spot before the mainframe and looked up as Miimei appeared between the servers with an expectant expression.

Miimei inclined her head toward him, luminescent eyes watching him patiently, "Satisfied?"

Harlock offered her a faint smile, "Not yet."

He led the way out of the room as Tori flew in to land on his shoulder and activated the locks once outside. The pair walked in silence towards his cabin, and it wasn't until they'd settled into their customary ritual that Miimei finally spoke up again.

"Why did you let him aboard?" Her question hung in the air between them as the warped space beyond the ship thundered outside the windows, something genuinely curious in her tone before she sipped her own drink, "You know what he is, you know why he's here."

Harlock seemingly paid her no mind, dropping his hand from his cheek to his lap and fixating his attention on the red liquid in his wine glass. He swirled it gently, expression pensive as he watched the liquid, how it caught the light, how the scent filled his senses, and still it wasn't enough to drown out the chaos of his own mind.

Miimei takes another long sip, before her voice slips into his thoughts with ease, "What are you waiting for?"

Harlock's gaze darted idly across the room, where a dirt-filled beaker sat alone beneath the window. The cracks are shoddily repaired, fragments still missing even now, the glass yellowed and dusty with time. Beneath his gloves, there are old scars on his hands and fingertips from decades ago, when in his grief he tried to fix it, tried to save this small remnant of Tochiro.

Yama's arrival had woken something in him, sparked a tiny flame he'd thought long dead. The nights he'd found the younger man wandering aimlessly, the

"A miracle, perhaps." Harlock replied at last, eyeing her when he felt that subtle shift in her, the amusement clear, though unstated; "Don't laugh at me," He tried to look stern, but knew she'd see right through it.

Her lips curled up with her smile, "I am simply an observer, Harlock."

Harlock eyed her a moment, pulling his gaze away with an understanding nod of his head and a short hum, before draining the last of his glass.

 

The showers were communal, equipped with an elaborate recycle and filtration system that put the colony systems to shame.

Yama came here to hide in the later hours, to scrub himself raw and soak away the muscle aches and pains as much as he could hope, scalding himself in barely tolerable hot water or trying to slow his mind in the process of freezing himself under cold water when his thoughts strayed too close to the unknown variable that was the Captain.

( _Hesitation is not an option_ , his mind rings with the cruel warnings of his brother, _hesitation will get you killed_. And yet, some part of him knew Ezra would shed no tears for his life should it end during this mission. Yama's thoughts were warred over his inaction, over his failure to _take the shot_ —)

It's a terrifying moment when someone else enters the far end of the baths just when he's about to slip into one he'd set to steaming hot. Kei had worked him hard that day, making him clean and calibrate the armored suits until each of them were in perfect working order in preparation for another potential raid; because of it, his legs and shoulders hurt too much for him to move too quickly out of sight as a tall figure appeared through the steam of the room.

Both men froze when they laid eyes on one another. Yama wanted to say something, an apology or excuse of some kind, but snapped his jaw shut upon seeing Harlock standing there in nothing but a simple pair of loose, black sleep pants slung low on his hips and a towel held in one hand.

Harlock's bare skin was a mess of old scars, bullet wounds, and burns; all of them scattered across lean torso with subtle musculature. His eyes darted from one mark to the next in those dead silent seconds as Harlock too, watched him. He felt that gaze rake against his skin from the ground up, caught the way Harlock's eye lingered on the scars from the accident, before meeting his.

Yama stood still as Harlock walked up to him, his footsteps quiet even in the open room as he stopped in front of the younger man; a frown had knitted into his features as he looked at Yama's scars, the streaking burns across his chest and arms to match those across his back. He had others too, those gained during his military training, knife marks from scuffles and fights with locals or rebels across the colonies he'd stopped in during his search for the _Arcadia_.

Yama was not without his flaws, would never speak of searching for perfection, and to see a few similarities between himself and the immortal Captain was enough to unsettle him and pulling his thoughts further into dangerous territory.

Harlock seemed to read him better than he was comfortable with, because the elder let loose a quiet hum that startled Yama from his thoughts, "Tell me their story sometime," He said, gesturing at Yama's collection of scars, "Perhaps I'll tell you mine."

Yama lifted a hand to his stomach, absently tracing an old gash that curved down from his left side to his right hip, a diagonal mess of pale tissue that often made him shy away from showering or dressing around others. Much in the same way the reminders of his accident did.

"I—"

Harlock moved passed him, the heat of him filling to scant inches between them, laced with the sharp scent of dark matter and the bittersweetness of wine, and something else, a scent that just seemed so very _Harlock_. It reminded Yama of spices and sandalwood, and it caused his gut to twist with an unfamiliar feeling.

In an unprecedented move, Yama reached out and grabbed for Harlock's wrist, feeling as surprised as Harlock looked when the other man stared first at his hand, and then at Yama. This close to the Captain, Yama felt small and ridiculous; the man was at least a head taller than him and could easily twist out of his grip, but instead he waited. Harlock stood patiently, allowing Yama's impulsive touch and waiting for his next move as if curious of what he might do.

Yama felt his mouth open and close, but no words came out until he swallowed and felt some semblance of his resolve stitch itself back together, "A truth for a truth. I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

Harlock's brow rose a little higher in question and Yama felt a nervous whine building in his throat before he found his next words.

"It— it doesn't have to be anything big, or—" Yama frowned deeply, dropping his eyes to his hand still wrapped around the older man's wrist. He forced himself to let go, and to keep himself from trembling with the sudden fear scraping through his insides, "—forget it. Forget I said anything. Please excuse me."

Just as Yama turned to leave, a large, slender hand catching his upper arm stopped him, and it was the slow, purposeful sweep of a thumb across the remnants of a bullet graze that made him shiver.

Harlock wasn't looking at him, his eye was focused on the scar instead, "This one."

Yama had expected Harlock to be cold, for his ancient body to feel dead and lifeless despite the fire in his eye and rough grace behind his movements, and the single-minded purpose in which he led his crew. Yama had been trained to adapt for his mission amongst the infamous space pirates, he'd been educated on a lot of things about Harlock and his fearsome crew; but a hand radiating warmth, a rasped voice tinged with mild curiosity, and a tentative touch against his own skin is not what he'd been taught to expect.

For the first time since his arrival, Yama entertained the thought that perhaps some tiny piece of Harlock was still _human_.

Yama turned toward Harlock as the Captain let go of his arm, and he traced his scar with a trembling touch of his own fingertips, "Live-round ballistics training, my first year in the army." He shrugged, offering the man a little half-smile, "Not very exciting."

Harlock snorted, and gave him a short nod; his hand lifted to a scar of haphazard stitches trailing down his left side and traced the old wound with a something of a self-deprecating smile, "Sparring with an old friend."

Yama felt his mouth tug into a tiny smile, "Who won?"

Harlock seemed to think about it, then looked up, "I did, but she was still the better fighter."

He frowned, "'Was'?"

Harlock's lips quirked into a brief smile before it disappeared again, "She died years ago, but she died fighting, and that's how she wanted to go."

Nibbling on the inside of his lip, Yama didn't know how to respond to that, and felt there was nothing he _could_ say. He simply nodded and rubbed absently at his arm, wondering how to excuse himself or just walk away.

Harlock seemed to catch on before he did and gestured towards the baths with an apologetic look, "It seems I interrupted you. Excuse me."

Before Yama could protest, Harlock turned on his heel and left. Left alone in the quiet filled by the sounds of running water, Yama stared after the Captain's retreating back; he wondered to himself, if he would be allowed to hear every story of every scar before he had to pull the trigger.

 

It had taken a while for Yama to feel comfortable eating around the crew.

In truth, he took more cleaning shifts around the ship to avoid them, quietly building up a diligent and determined character in their eyes while he used it as a way to catalogue as much of the _Arcadia_ as he could for his encrypted reports back to his brother.

More often than not, he would enter the mess as the last of the crew trickled out and pick at whatever was left. As hyper-focused as he could get in the past during previous stints in space with the military, his appetite seemed to escape him at the best of times.

Now he was alone, pushing pieces of stew around more than eating it, listening as the cook ordered her two minions around the kitchen with much the same zeal as a military commander. From what he'd heard about her, the young woman was the third in her family on the _Arcadia_ , with her grandmother having been the first decades ago. Something about that tidbit nagged at him, but he'd chosen not to question it for now.

Yattaran finds him after a while, and drags him from the mess chuckling as Miss Masu chased them out with a mighty glare and a warning shake of her cleaver— that alone was enough to scare them out of the area entirely.

As they're jogging down the hall towards the bridge, Yattaran abruptly stops with a yelp and Yama slams into him, bouncing off and landing on his ass with a pained groan. He looks up to find Yattaran has scooted off to the side and Harlock was now standing above him, and holding out an expectant hand for him to take.

Slowly, Yama reached up and set his hand in the Captain's, hesitant and unsure of what to do even as Harlock pulled him up like he weighed nothing, and to a man supposedly enhanced and immortalized by dark matter, perhaps there was truth to that theory.

Yattaran slipped past the captain with a nervous chuckle and awkward wave before Yama could stop him; not like he'd have tried when the heat of Harlock's hand holding his own had trapped his attention.

They're so close, Yama can smell the heady scent of the leather Harlock wears, taste the metallic tinge of dark matter and something else; something spicy and woodsy beneath that and it's too terrifying to wonder what it is and why it smelled _good_ to him. Neither has said anything, and the way Harlock's eye moves slowly around his face shouldn't cause his skin to heat up— that kind of careful scrutiny should make him uncomfortable but all it does is make it a little harder for him to breathe.

"Having fun?" Harlock breaks the silence between them, a barely-noticeable twitch of his lips gives away his amusement; as if he knew exactly what Yama's inner turmoil was about and why.

Frowning, Yama looks down at their hands, still joined between them with the elder's feeling warmer than normal through the gloves they both wore; "What...?" Then it clicks and he feels the heat rise in his cheeks, "Oh, you mean... the mess hall..."

Harlock tilts his head, that tiny smirk ghosting across his mouth again before it's gone, "Careful of her fury. Her grandmother was much the same."

Yama's confusion returned and his gaze shot up to meet Harlock's, "What do you mean?"

Harlock released his hand with what felt like a bit of reluctance, and Yama was careful to let his arm fall to his side; "It runs in the family."

Sidestepping him with a bit more grace than Yama figured a pirate would have, Harlock continued on his way— but not before calling back to him.

"In three hours, I brief the crew on our destination. Don't be late."

Yama watched Harlock disappear into the shadows of the hallway, absently clutching his hand to his chest even after he turned and walked in the other direction.

 

There's a disorienting lurch during a hyperspace exit, when in-skip is disengaged and the _Arcadia_ emerges from a black storm of dark matter in space.

Yama had seen it from the outside for the first time on MX201, but had heard the stories in the Legion academy, the older officers who'd been apart of ships defeated by the old battleship in the deep reaches of the galaxy. The _Arcadia_ was like a living nightmare, a shadowy beast filled with bronze-armored demons that haunted the dreams of every veteran spacer who encountered her.

Standing on the low level of the bridge as the Captain addressed them after leaving in-skip, Yama felt the shudder when the ship appeared over a grey planet hanging alone in a near-forgotten system of the galaxy. Tokarga, a failed human colony due to the toxic gasses in the atmosphere, and as Kei explained this, Yama turned as the ninety-ninth dimensional bomb was mentioned— only, he couldn't take his eyes off the man above them and he quickly activated the retinal scanner to take in the Captain, only half-listening to Kei as she called for volunteers to accompany her for the drop mission.

"Oh? Does no one want to tag along?"

In the silence that followed, Yama didn't think twice.

He raised his hand with a calculated hesitation, gaze locked on the pirate as he spoke, "I want to go."

Kei shook her head as she scoffed, "Not you—" and a wave of Harlock's hand cut her off, the Captain's single eye settling on Yama with a smirk ghosting across his lips.

"He has to start somewhere. Take him with you." Harlock said, eyes narrowing a fraction when Yama met his stare with more confidence than the younger felt.

For one long minute, Harlock watched him, and Yama didn't dare look away. He felt like he was being stripped apart under that gaze, one layer at a time, and he swallowed back the dryness in his mouth and ignored the pounding in his ears as he took the scrutiny. That twitch of a smile eventually came and went, and the Captain turned on his heel to return to his throne.

Kei shook her head, both impressed and amused, "Meet me on the hangar deck in ten minutes, then."

 

From start to finish, the mission is a disaster. But he's _alive_ and he's _breathing_ and his mission is hanging over his head like a guillotine because Harlock is _right there_ —

_"Yama."_

He tried to blink through the haziness, the edges of his vision blurred and his head pounding from the lack of oxygen earlier. The gun is in his hand before he can think and he almost smiles to know the rigorous training his brother forced him through wasn't wasted.

"Why?" The pain doesn't ebb, the ache behind his eyes pulsed and his hand tightened around the gun's grip, finger edging the trigger, "why didn't you stop me, even though you knew I was sent by Gaia?"

Harlock didn't flinch, barely acknowledged his actions as he leveled the barrel on his back; and despite Yattaran screaming through the comms before it cut out completely, he never stopped trying to trigger the release. The elder shifted enough that his voice could be heard through the chaos around them and Yama felt his jaw tighten so much, it exacerbated his headache.

"You became one of my crew the instant you set foot on the Arcadia." The Captain answered finally, then returned his attention to the release, still trying to yank it free.

Yama bared his teeth in a sneer, "that's such a _stupid_ way of thinking." Trying to pull himself together, to gather what remained of his confidence and surety, Yama held his gun aloft in both hands, his aim never once straying from the man before him, "My orders… are to retrieve the detonator, find the bombs, and—" He swallowed, hard; his throat was dry from the heat and his eyes watered, "—to kill you."

Harlock paused, briefly, "Is that really what you want?"

His tone was blunt, brutally honest as he continued, "Your survival isn't guaranteed, it's less than one tenth of a thousand." He stood to his full height and stared back at Yama, that single gaze wholly destroying the last of his carefully fabricated walls.

"Even if you succeed, there would be none here to praise you." Harlock gave him a curt nod, "Your task is a fool's errand, especially since no one told you to do it." That amber eye narrowed and something _knowing_ tugged at the corner of Harlock's mouth, " _You_ chose this."

Yama gasped, and suddenly his chest felt as if he'd been gutted, and yet he couldn't dredge up any resentment, or scorn, nor hatred for the man— _nothing_ — except for a slow and strange wash of clarity in that moment. He was stripped then and there; every mask, every lie, every choice over the last few months since boarding the _Arcadia_ was shredded by that gaze and the bitter truths spilling from the Captain's lips.

He didn't register the gun falling from his hands, or the steps he took forward, or the moment in which his hand clasped Harlock's over the release handle. His lungs burned and his heart thudded more painfully than ever in his ribcage like it wanted to escape the pod ship as much as the wyrm wanted to bring the rocky canyon down around them.

Harlock froze, head snapping over to him and staring at him as Yama hissed, "I'm not doing this because I like it—I want—"

Their eyes met; Harlock lips curved into a smirk as Yama grinned back, vicious and determined—

_I want to live._

 

" _'I want freedom.'_ You said it when you first came aboard the Arcadia."

"I…"

"If you truly believe what you said, then free yourself from the bonds that hold you down. If you still want to kill me after you do— then shoot me."

Harlock handed him his forgotten weapon and Yama frowned at it, then met the elder's gaze again.

"Maybe _you_ will be the one who would finally kill me."

 

Yama was leaving his cabin when he nearly walked into a wall— or rather, a body standing just outside, poised to knock just as he'd opened his door. Harlock stilled, body poised as if waiting for Yama to speak up or shove him away; instead, Yama stepped to the side and with a slight nod, watching as the Captain entered his small cabin with measured steps. He stopped in front of the two windows, his reflection giving away nothing of his thoughts as his arms automatically folded across his chest. Yama shut the door and leaned against his, allowing the informality of the setting to give him some small comfort to his confusion as to why the Captain showed up here in the first place.

Neither spoke for the longest time, with Yama watching Harlock's back and Harlock gazing out at the planet as they left it behind. Eventually, the silence wore on Yama and he couldn't stop himself from breaking it at last.

"You knew." Yama tried to keep the tremor out of his voice and knew he was unsuccessful, "You knew what I was, why I'm _here_ , and still, you let me stay."

Harlock let his arms fall to his sides as he turned to face Yama at last, the hint of a smirk ghosting across his lips before he answered, "Curiosity," he said, "You were predictable until the moment you weren't."

A frown marred his features as he pushed off the door and stood in front of Harlock, "And then?"

Harlock gave a quiet snort as he stepped closer into Yama's space with a glint of amusement in his eye, "I decided to keep you."

Stunned into silence as the Captain side-stepped him and exited his cabin, Yama couldn't help but feel as if more than just a change in his priorities had happened; whatever now filled the space between himself and Harlock placed him on the brink of something he couldn't find words for.

As the other man's retreating footsteps echoed in the corridor, he found himself yearning for the moment when Harlock would pull him over the edge.

 

_"Free yourself from the bonds that hold you down. Free yourself."_

Yama shuddered awake, and blinked away the heaviness of his eyes to find he'd dozed off. Curled up in the windowsill and the chill of the glass seeping through his shirt, Yama carefully unwound himself and stretched out, shivering in the chill of the deck once his body realized he's fallen asleep without his coat. He rooted around in his storage for a long-sleeved shirt instead, and pulled it on over his tee before slipping into his boots next; if restlessness was going to reclaim him, he might as well try to distract himself.

Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised when his mind went on autopilot and his feet took him straight to the bridge. He guessed it wasn't deserted and wasn't disappointed to find Harlock at the helm, almost as if he'd been expecting the company.

(However, it would be another hour before Harlock broke the silence, and the distance between them, and practically shattered the last of Yama's expectations.)

"Why did you seek out the Arcadia?"

The question surprised him, not just with the genuine curiosity behind it, but the patience in the man's amber gaze. Yama frowned a little, leaning on the railing beside Kei's console. They were the only ones on the bridge, and Yama had been switching between gazing out the bay of windows and observing the Captain. It was kind of peaceful, with the sounds of the _Arcadia_ filling the background with a low, quiet rumble.

"You already know the answer to that." Yama replied vaguely, hands gripping the railing just a little tighter.

Harlock turned his head enough to eye Yama with a hint of amusement, "I want to hear you say it," He said, and Yama didn't miss the little twitch of a smile before he looked away again.

"For freedom," Yama answered finally, a tiny smirk of his own playing across his lips.

"Did you believe it?"

Yama stilled, then shook his head, "I do now."

Harlock made a soft noise low in his throat, "Good enough."

"Is it?"

Harlock looked at him and Yama held that gaze. The intensity of it seemed like it would burn him if he let it. The Captain released the wheel and Yama's eyes were drawn briefly to it as it spun slowly, then the elder was in his space and pinned him in place with a paralyzing stare.

"You wouldn't still be here if it wasn't." Harlock murmured, "You chose this, you chose to stay; now you belong to the _Arcadia_ —" The corner of his mouth tugged into a brief smirk, "—to me."

Yama shivered, the Captain's tone was absolute, the kind of confidence that he'd been warned of during his training and briefings. He felt aware of everything in that moment; the hum of the ship, the slow tick of the engine, and the air shifting around the vertebral ring as it spun sedately.

He was well aware of the other man's proximity, the scents of leather and hint of skin, of whatever soap or cologne he used.Yama felt that gaze roam his features just as much as his own took in the Captain's, and he swore the pirate took a step towards him just to erase the gap a little more.

" _'Free yourself'_ ," He whispered into the scant space between them. Harlock's eye jumped up to his own and he continued, "that's what you told me after. _'Free yourself'_." He swallowed audibly, felt his heart in his throat, his skin warming under the intensity of that gaze.

Harlock brought a hand up and hooked a gloved finger beneath his chin, lifting his face so he'd have no choice but to meet that stare, "I meant it. Can you attain the freedom you're reaching for in the dark?"

 _Yes_.

Biting his lip under that scrutiny, feeling the heat rise from his chest to his cheeks, his throat feeling dry as he swallowed again, his lips chapped as he swept his tongue along them; desire was a force to be reckoned with and he couldn't resist the pull. ( _Yes_ ) Yama gave in, pressed close, and claimed those lips for his own. The muffled gasp from the elder was licked away by his insistent tongue as the hand grasping his chin slid along his jaw to cradle the back of his head.

 _'Free yourself'_ , he reminds himself as he buries his fingers deep in dark brown strands and pulls the other closer. _'Free yourself from these chains_. _'_

Harlock angled his head back to deepen the kiss, teeth nibbling on his lips between ravishing his mouth like in was an undiscovered territory. He felt overwhelmed, vindicated, relieved, hopeful, _desire_ , need— his mind was racing, his heart was aching, his body was far too hot in that sudden burst of courage that he didn't care what might happen next— only that he _wanted_ this so badly, it drove him to push harder into the kiss, to fight back and claim a taste of the man the entire universe seemed hellbent on destroying.

 _'Yes, I can_. _'_

Yama only broke away when the burn in his lungs became too uncomfortable, with Harlock's arm around his waist keeping him from dropping to his knees unexpectedly. He left his head drop on the Captain's shoulder as he attempted to control his breathing again, shivering when he felt the cool slide of leather against his skin as the elder wrapped his cape around them both to bring him closer. 

 _'I want… to live. I want to live_. _I want—'_

He felt lips against the corner of his mouth, warmth spreading from every point that Harlock touched him, and his hands found their way to the elder's hips, resting there as he tried to regain a center, an anchor, a fixed point to focus on as he tried to stop his world from spinning out of control. There was no going back now, this was the point of no return; he'd chosen _this_ over his promise and forsaken everything he knew and loved.

And for what?

(' _An endless sea of stars, broken chains, and an uncertain future_ , _'_ something whispered from the darker corners of his mind, _'the unknown isn't to be feared any longer.'_ )

"I want to stay." Yama rasped, lifting his head and meeting Harlock's gaze with an intensity of his own, something more than sudden want and blazing lust filling him, something like certainty and determination, "I want to _stay_."

Yama felt Harlock's hold on him tighten minutely, and there was that damned _smirk_ again, "Stay, then." Another kiss was ghosted across his lips and he tried valiantly to keep his heart rate from spiking again with the simple gesture, "Your future is your own to make. If it keeps you here… I wouldn't mind."

There was something final about those words, definitive and eternal. He wasn't alone in his wanting, or his need, or his hopes. He felt _free_ and dared to hold tightly to that feeling.


End file.
